Where Worlds are created and Characters are born…

Guest Writer: Mom

We are pleased to post a new Guest Writer post written by Faisal Khan titled Mom, dedicated to all the mothers in the world. Enjoy

I am writing a story. A novel. I really didn’t want to share any of that information but my current scene in the novel has been really tempting for me to share it with you guys. This is a very personal novel, and might not even get published or what not. I am just writing it to pleasure myself. So the following event that I am going to write below has not happened, and I hope does not happen to anyone in the world. The extract that I am going to write is made up and not real.

Here is the extract,

‘When I was a small child, who was then not capable of understanding that the shiny lights in the sky were not in fact lights but huge enormous objects radiating heat light that could fry my body in a millisecond, my mother was the only producer of my life system. She was my information provider, teacher, helper, and probably my best friend. But that was not today.

She was laying on the ICU bed, I could see her looking at me, wearing the big oxygen mask over her delicate nose, a billion tubes going across her torso covered with hospital clothes, trying to catch her falling breath. I could see her enchanting eyes, in which the whole universe’s lights could bear on, suddenly had a tear when she saw me through the window looking at her in her condition.

Watching her tears fall down, on her soft white face, was sheer tragedy. It made my eyes, cover full with blurry water, unclear of the vision of my future, of what I am going to do. Of what I shall be when she goes away, to who shall I share my problems, for who shall I plan my plans, to whom shall I tell my stories, and whose laugh shall I hear in my jokes. I taught of that, and the air around me started to suffocate me as I tried to catch my breath.

The Doctors said she had a heart attack and she will not be able to talk. My Mom told me long ago that the Heart is made up of several connections connecting various parts of the body, If by any chance, a person couldn’t speak during a heart attack, the person might die. That thought started to strangle my mind with hopelessness.

I wished to roam around the hospital and tried to think of other things to do, rather than to see my mother die. ‘I will be there at the canteen.’ I said to my Dad pointing at the end of the huge hall, He didn’t respond to my words, just sitting there on the cold hard bench, I am sure he was thinking of life.

While walking I looked at the other families and people sitting on the benches, I thought about the cold hard benches, those who had to support many people of many feelings; happiness, pain, hope, and other. I wondered what feelings the benches are giving to my Dad.

While halfway through the hall, I caught a boy, about my age sitting alone on the same line bench my Dad was 20 m away, He was alone. Which made me curious to know of what had happened to him, why he was sitting there, was he waiting for some news, will it be good or bad. I just kept on walking, not thinking about him at the moment.

I went to the canteen, the man who was handling it, had a lot of brushy hair on his head, nothing I have seen in the whole of Frost, He had strong hands, it could easily have been guessed by his strong muscular body.

I walked to my Dad, who had his back head touching the wall, I opened my sandwich box, and he suddenly stood up like lightning, ‘something has happened. I can feel it in my heart.’ He said, not making sense, ‘What Happened?’ I shouted loudly, getting strange looks from the people sitting near to us. The Doctor came bursting from the door, and presented the saddest news ever, ‘I am very sorry, We tried our best, but I have bad news; we couldn’t save her.’

I felt my heart stop, the congestion in my lungs burst like the supernova we experienced together when we were traveling to the Hospital that time for my 15th Year checkup. I didn’t know what to say, my mind went blank, my eyes had this continuous flow of water, I did not understand what was happening. I went inside the room, to see what a ‘death bed’ actually looks like, the pool of blood on her torso, her eyes closed, she was definitely the most beautiful woman in my world. Now far away from me, not answering, when I said, ‘Mom.’

My Body answered by giving serious heat and sweat.

And then I woke up.

Only to find everything had been a bad dream. I did not understand any of it. I looked at the right of my Bed, My Mom was sleeping soundly, breathing her air on me, crouching against my body on the single bed with me, as if she had a bad dream and couldn’t sleep with Dad. I hugged her tightly, ‘What happened Sweetie?’ she woke up asking in her half sleep. ‘Nothing. I love you very much, Mom. Please never leave me.’

Perhaps everything that happened previously was just a dream, but from that bad dream, I had now experienced how it feels when you lose the most important thing in your world. Mom.’